* * *

The last year of high school blurred with intensity and activity, and Karina relished the feeling of exhaustion that accompanied her schedule. As captain of the Science Olympiad team her senior year, Karina led them to the regional finals, where they brought home small trophies for third place and a great feeling of accomplishment.

Her father wanted her to go to a top college. He insisted on taking her to tour the Ivy League, and regularly bought her shirts from the Stanford bookstore. Sometimes, she felt like one of his employees to be managed, or an investment to be returned. Karina had a different goal: instead of a university with the best ranking, she wanted one that would give her the largest scholarship—something that could give her true independence from her parents.

As the end of high school drew closer, the sights of Karina and her friends narrowed. Izzy was determined to go to college on the East Coast. Karina knew there was little chance of them being near each other, since Izzy wanted to live someplace where she could experience winter and escape their comfortable suburban neighborhood. Karina admired her courage and, in Izzy’s shadow, realized how little of it she had herself. She thought leaving Northern California was a big step toward independence. She applied to all the best colleges on the West Coast, while Izzy applied to only one token University of California campus for her parents. Karina knew throughout their senior year that graduation would be the end of them, but that understanding didn’t make it any less painful when it happened.

17 | Prem

Usually I’m the one in our family who can see something special, but sometimes it’s Kiki.

She was the first to see something special in Gilly when she was just a little puppy. Gilly ended up being adopted by a family from the waiting list, with ten-year-old twin boys. When they went to pick her up, she had grown so much you couldn’t even tell she’d been the runt, and they called her Maxi. Kiki could see from the beginning that Gilly would grow up to be strong, a little fighter who constantly nipped at everyone’s ankles. I don’t think I would have liked that biting part, but I would have put up with it for Kiki. Gilly would have made her really happy.

But I’m the one who could always spot the candy in its hiding place after Halloween every year. Mom kept the bucket on the top shelf of the pantry, and when she wasn’t home, I would climb onto one of the kitchen chairs and stand on my tiptoes to try to reach it. When I was six and seven years old, no matter how much I stretched out my arm, I couldn’t reach that shelf, and I had to ask Kiki to get it for me (which she did, but not the whole bucket, only a few pieces). Seeing my family now feels like that: each person is reaching, stretching their arms and wiggling their fingers as much as possible, but there are still giant gaps between them. And they don’t have anyone to ask for help like Kiki helped me.